Oompa Loompa Takeover
by SlugMamma
Summary: Do Oompa Loompa's freak you out? Excellent. Under the employment of the third Willy Wonka (played by Dwayne Johnson aka. The Rock) the Oompa Loompas are tired of their mistreatment and seek to overthrow the powers that be. They start with Willy Wonka, and then the world...
1. Chapter 1

**Oompa Loompa Takeover**

Viewer discretion is advised. Some descriptions may not be suitable for children.

I

The chocolate stream gurgled.

And the Oompa Loompas waited.

First they could hear him. The tap of his cane on the peppermint candy gravel. His whimsical whistling as he walked. And then surprisingly, he stopped.

"Where the hell are you little orange bitches?" they heard him declare.

This would not do. He had to come closer.

They peered through the blades of fondant grass and around the lollipop trees. He stood not 20 feet away surveying the area with his suspicious squint.

"Oompas?" He frowned before tossing his cane up and grasping it as more of a weapon than an accessory.

They had lost their advantage of surprise. But they would make their move none the less.

He hit one in the side with his cane. Another brother fell from a blow to the head. And with a roar he threw an Oompa Loompa into a tree.

But their strength was in numbers. And as a group they would defeat him.

"Get off me you little bastards!" He cried, flipping one off his shoulders.

And then one bit his leg.

"Savages!" He roared as he pulled up a lollipop and swung it about. With a crack the rebel leader met his doom.

There was a pause. All eyes rested upon the chief's still form. And then they swarmed his killer.

They climbed him as if he was a tree and stumbling, he fell in to the river.

"How dare you! I'm fucking Willy Wonka!"

And then they dragged him below.

The rush of the chocolaty current was strong but the Oompas held fast.

Finally, the deed done, they surfaced the stream gasping and treading chocolate. They all watched as the reddish brown top hat, a vivid symbol of their enslavement, floated down the stream peacefully.

And the chocolate stream gurgled.


	2. Chapter 2

II

One Year Later

"How do the fuckers even procreate?"

Miles frowned, not taking his eyes off the scene below them. "I don't know, who cares?"

There was a scraping sound as his friend lowered himself onto his stomach.

"It's weird man, where are the females? Are they A-sexual or something?" The other boy murmured.

Miles lowered his binoculars and gave the kid an annoyed look. He'd been trying to estimate troop number.

"There's just so many of them. How did there get to be so many?" Gerald stared down, enthralled. He absentmindedly put a strand of hair in his mouth and began chewing.

Miles shrugged. "I don't know, I suppose it takes a lot to run such a weird chocolate factory like Willy Wonka's."

"Yeah, like, maybe they're clones." Gerald grinned, excited at the thought.

Miles rolled his eyes.

"What?" Gerald asked, catching the look. "Am I 'disturbing' you?" he made quotations with his fingers.

Miles snorted, now annoyed, and looked away. Down below them the Oompa Loompas continued marching and training.

"Hand over the optics." Gerald motioned.

Miles sighed, handing them to him. "I wish we still had an army."

"Guess they all liked chocolate."

"Yeah," Miles said darkly.

"You have to admit though, Willy Wonka's a fuckin' genius," said Gerald, now pressing the binoculars to his face. "You know, the totally deranged kind but…having that big promotional thing. Getting everybody to eat the chocolate… and with that special poison… who could have seen it coming? It couldn't have worked better. And using all his workers like an army? Orange little devil spawn." Gerald crossed himself.

Miles was silent as he scanned the horizon. They were perched on a tall building, surveying the activity down in the yard of the old chocolate factory. The place was built like a fortress. A 12 foot steel reinforced brick wall surrounded the whole grounds. In the middle sat the gloomy brown building that was the main entrance to the facility. To the west, Miles's left, sat the only way in or out: a large iron gated entrance to the factory grounds. It had been chained and permanently padlocked way before The Takeover. Off to the east, Miles's right, he could see the only weakness in the structure: the trap door. At one time it had allowed Willy Wonka's famous chocolates to leave the factory and be distributed to the world. For a month however, it had sat dormant.

The sky was a cloudy gray today, in stark contrast with the white smoke being emitted from the factory. "There's no more reason to make chocolate." Miles muttered. "So what are you making in there?" He shook his head. He was only twelve, but he looked older, his light brown hair matted down with grease and rain from earlier.

Gerald was a little older, but not necessarily any wiser. His blonde hair was just getting long enough to start looking like a mullet when he combed it back. Which wasn't very often. Miles looked over at him as he began bobbing his head as if he was listening to music. Perhaps he was…in his head. Gerald was a little weird.

Just then an updraft of wind brought them a snippet of the chant the enemy was singing below.

"Oompa Loompa doompity doo,

I've got a perfect puzzle for you,

Oompa Loompa doompity dee,

If you were wise you would listen to me…"

Miles peered down, his expression dark. "We should just drop a nuke on em'."

Gerald laughed. "That'd be so righteous."


	3. Chapter 3

III

_Plip._

_Plip._

_Plip._

Miles squoze as much water out of his hair as he could.

"NO! Forget it," Gerald protested, standing a few feet away. "My beautiful locks would be ruined!"

"Come on! You need a scrubbing anyway, your hair is gross." Miles looked up from the basin. "Do you want to be walking around and your wig falls off? It just wouldn't look authentic."

"Authentic? Theirs look freakin' glued on," he said obstinately, crossing his arms and not making eye contact.

Miles wasn't particularly happy about dying his hair green either, but it was the only way. He just hoped he was doing it right. He turned the box over in his free hand. Yuck, Mint Julep green.

"This is insane anyway," Gerald continued. "I mean, you're a runt. But me? I'm already way taller than the tallest one of them. And how am I supposed to hide a regular gun in this shit?" He heard Gerald mutter, looking over the clothes they'd stolen.

"Well then. Do you want me to do it by myself? Cause I will if you keep bitching." He watched as his words made Gerald's eyes grow bigger.

"Of course I'm going to do it with you…it's just…"

Miles sighed and told himself to give his friend a break. What they were planning on doing was extremely dangerous and it was likely both of them would be killed. No one knew how the Oompa Loompas communicated beyond their songs or how their community worked in general. Did they all know each other? What kind of names did they have? There was no way of knowing. "You'll look fine," Miles said. "Your hair is already the right length and it'll be easier to dye yours since it's blond. Mine on the other hand…" Miles looked at himself in the dusty mirror now splattered with drops of green water. "I'm not sure how this is going to look."

"We're going to look hideous," Gerald stated plainly, shrugging.


	4. Chapter 4

IV

"Dude, there is something so fucked up about looking at you."

Miles scowled and pulled a green curly hair out of his face. "Yeah well, you look fantastic."

The two boys were crouched down only a few yards away from the old chocolate slot, hiding in the overgrown bushes that bordered the sidewalk. Though they'd been treating each other like jerks for the past few minutes as they waited for the guard change, both were really panicky.

"Remember, deep breaths, if you start sweating all the orange skin cream will start running." Miles said.

"I know, I know," Gerald hissed back. "I just hope to God it doesn't start raining." They'd chosen today specifically for the overcast sky, hoping it would disguise their looks and make them appear more like Oompa Loompas.

The chute consisted of four sheets of steel welded together and bolted to the brick wall, sloped slightly toward the ground. There was an opening at the end and if you leaned into the chute, where there would have been brick, was a panel that swung freely and opened, supposedly, to a small chamber were at one time the chocolate had sat in packages waiting for the mail carriers to pick it up.

"O.L. ten o'clock!" Miles whispered and they both shut up and hunkered down. As the orange army marched by to change shifts, they began their singing:

_Oom_-pa _Loom_-pa Doompity _Doo_,

I've got a per-fect puzzle for _you_,

_Oom_-pa _Loom_-pa Doompity _Dee_,

If you were wise you would listen to _me_,

Your infra-structure was going to –_POT_,

You thought things were fine, well they were _not_,

You were content to eat our choco_late_,

While we slaved away with no _profit_,

_I don't like the look of it,_

_Oom_-pa _Loom_-pa Doompity _day_,

We're in controlnow, do as we _say_,

Tables have turned now you bow to_ us_,

We make the rules now, don't make a _fuss,_

Because what do you think will happen to_ you_?

If you don't do as the _Oom_-pa _Loom_-pa doompity _do_!

As the tromp of combat boots receded, the boys slowly lifted their heads and uncovered their ears.

"Doompity Doo!" One of the Oompa Loompas screamed and both boys nearly shit their pants in fright. When the troop of Oompas went around the corner, Gerald swore loudly. "Little shit," He muttered angrily.

"Come on, let's go." Miles army crawled to the concrete and then they both shot up and ran to the chocolate slot.

Miles stuck the upper half of his body in the chocolate chute, the tang of corroded metal strong in his nostrils.

"In, in, in!" Gerald cried, pushing Miles until he lost his balance and fell forward. Luckily there _was_ a swinging panel, otherwise Miles would have smacked Gerald later.

Miles fell about two feet and then face planted into a musty cushion. He squirmed around and pulled the rest of his body into the dark enclosure. _I hope to God that they didn't weld the other end shut or we're going to be so—_

Miles's train of thought was interrupted as Gerald came through the panel and swung his knee right into his head.

"Dude! You're messing up my hair!" Miles cried, shoving Gerald off him.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Gerald whispered hoarsely. "Fresh guards are arriving!"

So they both lowered their voices and tried to find their bearings.

"Oooh, cushy." Gerald whispered, and then began bouncing a bit on the plush fabric underneath them. It was cramped beyond belief, Miles couldn't even lie down flat and the other dimension of the box had to be less than three feet. Miles tried to move and his head hit Gerald's foot. It was too dark to see anything! "Why the hell didn't we bring a light?" He muttered.

Miles heard a dull thumping as his friend patted the metal to his right. "Miles, I don't feel the panel. God, what if we're stuck in here? Did I ever tell you I'm claustrophobic?!"

Miles eyes widened. "You idiot. You better be fucking kidding me!"

"What if we're stuck in here, man?!" Gerald panicked.

"Fucking calm down!" Miles's hands managed to find purchase on Gerald's military vest and shook him hard.

"Okay, okay, I'm calm." Gerald said, and Miles felt the cushion shake as his friend sat back down.

"Remember when we looked at it in the binoculars?" Miles asked his friend as he sat up and began feeling across the metal.

"Yeah, there was a shoot on both sides, exactly the same."

"Right, and a panel supposedly on both sides to reveal this cavity."

"Yeah, dude what's your point?"

"Well," Miles said, running his fingernails down a groove in the wall. "Willy Wonka wanted his candy to be put out into the world, right? But he didn't want anybody coming in."

"So?" Gerald hissed, impatient.

"So the panel on this side only opens from the outside in."

His friend was silent and then: "Oh fuck, we're trapped."

"Shut your trap, all we have to do is pull the panel in. I think I found it, I just need your pocket knife."

"Oh, good God, just get me out of here." Gerald said, pushing the pocket knife into Miles's back.

As Miles worked, carefully shoving the pocket knife in and prying, the tiny room began to get hot and uncomfortable. "How are you doing over there?" Miles asked his friend.

"Just super, man. Can you hurry it up?" Gerald voice was sarcastic, but Miles could detect a note of anxiety.

Finally, with a little squeak that made Miles grit his teeth, the panel came loose. Fresh air wafted in as he pulled it up and in. Miles held it up above his head and peered at his friend in the now only semi-darkness. Gerald looked sick. But maybe it was the orange skin cream doing that.

"Just take your time, catch your breath." Miles whispered.

"Are you kidding me? The sooner I'm out of here the happier I'll be." Gerald hissed.

"Alright." Miles tried to wipe the sweat off his palms by rubbing them down his pants. "We get out of here and head straight for the factory, okay?"

Gerald nodded.

Miles dropped his legs down and Gerald took the panel.


	5. Chapter 5

V

Miles Gobie was born on October 19, 2015. His mother and father were not married when he was conceived, and they never did tie the knot. The next eleven years he spent either with his father or with his mother, each in different states and towns. On March 7th, 2028, on the day that later would be referred to as the first day of The Takeover, Miles was currently living with his mother in Ferris, NY. That day he and his mother woke to the sound of emergency vehicles. Everyone, everywhere, across the world, was dying. In the weeks before that day, Wonka's factory had put out thousands of new chocolates and sweets, all at a discount price, and held giveaways across the globe in what appeared to be an attempt to market their new candies in celebration of The Chocolate Factory's 75th year. It worked. Truckloads of Wonka's finest was distributed and devoured by the people of Earth. Large quantities were given as a gift, or in celebration, to the army, all the children's foundations, even the dignitaries across the seas.

For weeks the world munched while inside their bodies a poison the world had never before seen, exported straight out of the jungles of Loompa Land, laid in wait, building up in their systems and biding its time until its chemical reaction was triggered.

One moment, everything was as it should be.

The next day there was 6 billion less people in the world.

The only people that were left were the fitness nuts, the diabetic, and the poor. Miles came into the second category. His mom fell into the first.

March 8th, before anyone had even had time to mourn or bury their dead, the attacks started. It was clear then, if it hadn't been before, that this was no accident.

This was war...

Miles dropped to the dirt and crouched down, his eyes scanning the open grounds of the factory. There was a troop of Oompa Loompa's beginning their training exercises and marching around on the East side. There were six of them guarding the main entrance, and on the West, at the loading dock entrance, there were four. He forced himself not to pull out the firearm he had tucked into the waistband of his grey military pants.

Gerald dropped down beside him, his green hair completely whacked out, sticking out in all the wrong places and his orange face cream running from sweat. His jaw however, was set, and his dark eyes hardened into a squint. He nodded at Miles, showing he was ready. For the millionth time Miles thought of how completely insane this plan was and how they were doomed to fail. But he was desperate.

Miles had not fallen to them yet. Not when everyone in the world had. Not when his mother had been murdered by a shot to the back with a high powered butterscotch shatter bullet. Not when he thought he'd run out of insulin and collapsed in that mini-mart.

He'd found a way to make it through. All the while only thinking of his revenge. At getting back at the monsters that had taken everything from him. He was diabetic, he could only live in a world like this, where insulin was limited, for so long. This mission was his last ditch effort to hurt them in the hardest way possible.

And Gerald? He was just insane enough to go with it.

The two boys scrambled out and away from the chute, straightening and beginning to march to the West entrance of the factory.

Miles's hands were shaking, his heart pounding so loud that he feared the Oompa Loompas standing guard at the entrance would hear it. Did anyone see them drop down from the chute? Had anyone noticed them yet? Miles dared not glance around to see lest he appear more suspicious than he already did. Now that he was over the wall, the grounds surrounding the factory seemed huge and exposing. He looked down to his boots, willing his legs to keep walking, not to turn around and run back to the chute. There was no turning back now, this had to work.

Gerald slowed as they approached the entrance and sidled off towards one of the brick walls to imitate an off duty guard.

Even though Miles knew it was part of the plan, he nearly cried out for Gerald to come back. He steeled his nerves and pulled his face taught. He had to pull this off, it was his plan. How many times had they gone over this?

The four Oompa Loompas next to the double doors turned and scrutinized him. Miles continued to walk as calmly as possible towards the entrance, a small sliver of hope rising up that maybe, just maybe, they'd let him pass unaccosted. One of them, different from the others only in that his face was longer and his eyes turned down at the ends, stepped in his path and put a hand to his chest. _Stupid_, of course they wouldn't, he'd known that. Miles stopped and looked down with a gulp into the dark green eyes of the creature.

He waited breathlessly for it to do something. To speak, hopefully.

Its lips were silent as it stared at his face. Miles knew he looked like a kid dressed up in an Oompa Loompa costume. Whatever makeup finesse Gerald and he had managed to achieve earlier had died during their escapade in the chocolate chute. For once, the O.L didn't have to sing for him to understand them. "Are you kidding me?" was obviously painted across all four of their faces.

Miles dared a glance to Gerald, who was in position 10 yards away. Gerald mad-dogged him and made motions of singing with his hands and mouth. _Right._

"Uh...Oom-pa Loom-pa doompity doo..." Miles sang meekly, his voice cracking. "If you were wise you'd let me through?"

A chubbier faced one snorted a laugh and clapped his hand over his mouth to stifle it. Another leaned to the side and whispered something in his friend's ear while pointing at Miles hair. The two looked almost tiddly. The one directly in front of him however, did not look amused. It shook its head in disbelief. Almost like it pitied his stupidity. It raised its handgun to his forehead.

_CRACK!_

Blood was sprayed everywhere. In Miles eyes, his mouth, his nose. He recoiled, blinded with red, and fell on his ass. Two more cracks and then the scrape of boots on dirt. Miles struggled to breath and wipe the warm liquid that coated his face from his eyes. What was going on?

"Oompa Loompa Fuckity Doo! Come and get it!" he heard someone shriek, quickly followed by more gunshots.

_Gerald._

Miles finally regained his sight to see his friend running East, directly towards the training group, while shooting erratically at the swarms of O.L. that had thrown themselves after him.

No! That wasn't the plan! If things went bad, Gerald was supposed to shoot the guards and then join him as they entered the factory! What was he doing?!

He was making a diversion. He was saving Miles's mission and his life.

The Oompa Loompas that had been blocking Miles's way were gone, only two bodies left bleeding out on the dead grass and dirt. Miles pulled the Glock from his waistband and managed to push himself up.

Had this been Gerald's plan all along? Had he known that there were too many for it to be done any other way? Miles knew that Gerald's sacrifice would mean nothing if he made some stupid attempt to save him. But could he really just do nothing?!

He couldn't. He began running after his friend. "Gera-" A cacophony of gunshots drowned him out. He was too late.

Gerald screamed as he was shot from a hundred different angles and fell, his form quickly disappearing from Miles's sight, his body swarmed by the O.L.

Miles skidded to a stop and was frozen there in horror. "No."

This had been a mistake.

"No." He shook his head and stumbled back a few feet. He was ready to give up right then. He was done. Let them shoot him too. He couldn't keep going. Not without his mom. Not without Gerald.

_No. Not yet._ Something inside him demanded. He couldn't give up until he'd hurt Willy Wonka and the Oompa Loompas. Not until they'd paid. _Notyetnotyetnotyetnotyet_. It became a sort of chant in his brain as he turned and ran for the entrance he'd previously abandoned. His brain did nothing but repeat the loop as he leapt over the bodies of the guards and tore open the door. _Not yet._


	6. Chapter 6

VI

Dazed and frenzied, Miles stumbled through another hallway. Everything was messed up. When he'd imagined the inside of Willy Wonka's factory, he'd thought it'd be pretty straightforward. Concrete, machines, conveyor belts and packages. I mean, it was a factory wasn't it?

But no, of course it wouldn't be that simple. This was Willy Wonka after all.

So far he'd seen nothing that even looked like a factory. The first door he'd come too had been at the end of a black and white checkered room that got smaller the farther you went. He'd squeezed through that, only to find himself in a round blue room with a doorway up in the ceiling. Miles thought he was going to need a grapple hook like Batman before he was going to get up there until suddenly, he figured out that by walking on the floor like a hamster would in a wheel, the room turned until the door was right beneath his feet.

How long ago that had been, he had no way of knowing, the place was like a maze and he'd gone through all manner of doors and still gotten nowhere.

The door in front of him at the moment had a giant keyhole and a sign on it that stated boldly: **The Chocolate Room.**

Miles, breathing hard from all his running, bent down and peered through the 12 inch keyhole. Before him was lush green grass that spread over soft sloping hills. Candy cane trees and fondant flowers dotted the whole landscape as it declined into a beautiful brown river of chocolate that shone and sparkled as it flowed peacefully by.

Such beauty felt at gross odds to the horrors that Miles had just seen. His heart sick, he made to rise. He had to pass through there. To find what, he wasn't sure. But there had to be something, something at the heart of the factory that he could destroy. Something that would make it possible for him to avenge his mother and...Miles took a shaky breath, pushing back any tears that threatened. He'd mourn Gerald when and if there was time.

He was about to open the door when he heard the sound of muffled cries. He shot back down and pressed his face to the keyhole once more.

No. It was impossible.

Across the scenery, following the small peppermint candy gravel path was a group of Oompa Loompas. And up in the air, being carried by them, was Gerald.

He was tied up with the strongest binder there was, Strawberry Twizzler ropes, his mouth gagged by a dirty rag. His face and all the exposed skin Miles could see of his was battered and covered in red welts that were quickly turning purple.

_He's not dead!_ Miles could have cried.

Why wasn't he though? Miles shook the thought away, he'd figure that out later, after he'd rescued his friend. He pushed the door open slowly and crept out into the grass, his Glock firmly grasped between his hands.

"_Oom_-pa _Loom_-pa Doompity _Doo_," The group that was holding Gerald began singing. "I'm a-fraid it's all over for_ you_."

_Not if I have anything to say about it._ Miles thought as he did his best to be stealthy and make a steady gain on the O.L. Gerald, though he could have spotted Miles from his aerial perch, was too busy thrashing around and screaming to notice.

There were eight in the group. Miles was confident he could take out at least two before they were able to train their weapons on him. He set his feet apart, ready to run for cover when he'd need it.

"_Oom_-pa _Loom_-pa doompi—"

_CRACK-CRACK-CRACK!_

The sound of gunshot echoed loud in the large domed room as one Oompa Loompa was shot in the neck, another in the leg. Gerald was dumped unceremoniously to the ground as the O.L. pulled their guns out and fired back at Miles. Miles dived behind a giant peppermint tree trunk and hunkered down as their infamous butterscotch shatter bullets whizzed by. Whatever they'd shot at Gerald, probably non-lethal gumball slugs, they were not sparing on him.

He cried out as one of them blew through the bark of the tree and sharp fragments of both peppermint and butterscotch exploded, sinking themselves into his skin like shards of glass. Trying to ignore the pain, Miles whipped around the other side and sent a couple shots at the creatures. His arm was shaking too hard and he missed them completely. He did however hit a glass tube that was sucking up the warm liquid chocolate from the river, causing it to shatter and send chocolate gushing out onto the Oompa Loompas. Miles took a chance and dived into the open for a clean shot, managing to hit one of them in the shoulder. He trained his sight on one's head when-

_Click, click._

He was out of bullets. Miles's eyes widened. _Idiot_, he cursed himself. He'd forgotten to reload when he was behind cover.

One of the Oompa Loompas had already recovered enough to get Miles in his sites.

Just when he thought he was done for, a loud cry resonated throughout the room. Everyone looked up to see a large figure sliding down one of the glass tubes that sloped down into the river at a 45 degree angle. The man, using a huge chunk of what appeared to be toffee for a makeshift skateboard, began spraying the O.L. with ammunition.

They scattered in an attempt to survive, the one about to kill Miles abandoning his weapon and diving towards the underbrush for cover. Miles took off in a run, his hands shoving a new clip into his gun. Who or whatever the stranger was, they were going to shoot Gerald if they weren't careful. Miles had to get him free and away from this madness.

Miles was vaguely aware of the tattered, hulking figure leaping off the glass tube and somersaulting onto the grass. As soon as the man slowed, he swung his rifle out and hit an unsuspecting O.L square in the chest, launching it into the chocolate river with a splash. One Oompa Loompa launched itself at the man in an attempt to pry his rifle away. The man only let loose a savage roar as he stood, lifting the rifle and the Oompa Loompa holding onto it, and slamming both into the ground.

Miles slowed only long enough to kick one of the injured O.L. that was attempting to rise and reach a gun before he rushed to Gerald and pulled the rag from his mouth.

"Dude! Get me out of this stuff!" Gerald pleaded.

Miles pulled a knife from his leg and hacked as good as he could through the sticky Twizzler vines that were wrapped all around his friend. "Thank god…" Gerald muttered as his hands were freed and he began to pull himself from the candy.

Miles stopped with the vines then and watched, mesmerized, as the big man that had saved them lifted one of the remaining Oompa Loompas over his head, and with a roar brought it down on his knee. Miles cringed at the crack of bones before the O.L., now completely limp, was dropped to the ground. The big man was quick then to regain possession of his rifle. Miles's eyes widened as he directed it at them. But he did not fire. "What the fuck?" He exclaimed instead, looking at them with abhorrence. "What the hell's going on here?"

"We—we're not Oompa Loompas! We're human!" Miles stuttered, his hands coming up.

The man's dark eyes scrutinized them for only a moment longer before he scanned the room. "Fine. If you two geniuses wanna live to see tomorrow, I suggest you get off your butts and follow me. More of them will be here any minute." Without waiting for them, the man turned and took off across the candy landscape.

Gerald was now free and Miles took him by the hand and pulled him up. Miles pointed after the quickly departing man. Gerald responded by shrugging and scooping up one of the Oompa Loompa's fallen weapons.

They took off in pursuit.


	7. Chapter 7

VII

"Where are we going?" Miles asked Gerald as they ran.

"To his secret lair?" Gerald projected hopefully, swiping a hand up his face to get the hair out of his eyes. Miles wanted to ask the big man, but he was too far ahead of them, and try as they might, Gerald and him just didn't have long enough legs to catch up with him.

They were running along the bank of the chocolate river, except now it was flowing through a tunnel and the grass underfoot had changed to a thin strip of concrete that ran parallel against the tunnel wall.

Gerald was running in front of Miles, seemingly okay despite the beating he had taken from the O.L. Miles just prayed that this stranger they were following knew where he was going.

Door after door they passed. On their side, on the opposite, there were even a few on the ceiling. Each one had a label on it, saying what room it was or what it held. Try as he might though, Miles couldn't make much sense of them.

LICKABLE WALLPAPER FOR NURSURIES

COWS THAT GIVE CHOCOLATE MILK

FIZZY LIFTING DRINKS

ALL THE VINES: RED VINES, HONEYSUCKLE VINES, "THE VINES", AND DEVINES

MAGIC HAND-FUDGE—WHEN YOU HOLD IT IN YOUR HAND, YOU TASTE IT IN YOUR MOUTH

RAINBOW DROPS—SUCK THEM AND YOU CAN SPIT IN SIX DIFFERENT COLORS

"Geez, they sure like to label stuff," Gerald said over his shoulder to Miles. Miles nodded uncomfortably as he tried to keep up his pace, this place was definitely weird.

"Hey! He's stopped! He's waving us into one of the rooms." Gerald said, quickening his stride and leaving Miles in the dust.

A moment or two later, Miles finally arrived. The door to "HOT ICE CREAM FOR COLD DAYS" was open, and completely out of breath, Miles managed to stumble into the room.

As soon as he stepped in, goose bumps erupted across his skin. It was very, very cold inside. There were metal pipes and vats and tubes all over the place, but none of them looked to be filled with anything except for dust.

"Come on, he went through here!" Gerald beckoned, holding open the door to one of the upright freezers, except where there should have been the back, or at least the wall of the room, there was nothing but a dark and gaping hole.

Miles ran through and barely managed to stop himself from tumbling face first down the flight of stairs that was suddenly beneath his feet. He peered into the semi-darkness and was unable to distinguish where the stairs ended, or where the big man was. There was however, a loud clanging sound that was receding away from them.

"Come on, before we lose him!" Gerald said, joining him at the top.

So together, jumping two steps at a time, they made their way down. The stairs seemed to go for an eternity, even though they were running down them as fast as they could. Miles could only imagine how long it would take a person to make their way back up them.

Finally they made it to a landing and ran through a small passageway, passing a large, flat metal tin that had been left on the ground. Miles suspected it was the culprit of the clanging, and that perhaps the big man had simply rode down the stairs on it. They came to an open steel door that had an open padlock hanging from it dejectedly.

Miles ran through the doorway and found himself standing in a small enclosed space, surrounded by solid concrete. In front of him rebar had been punched into the wall to make a ladder of sorts. Far, far above him Miles could hear the scrape of the man making his way up. Miles hopped a foot up on it, and was just able to reach the next step with his other foot. The interval between steps was very close to being too far apart, but Miles, with a little stretching, was able to manage. Anyone shorter than him, Oompa Loompa sized, would not have been able to make it.

He climbed up as fast as he could, thoughts of the horrid O.L. pushing him onward. Well, that and Gerald beneath him muttering, "Move it!" if he slowed for a moment.

Finally the ladder ended.

Miles gasped as he was grabbed by the back of his collar, pulled roughly up and deposited onto a tiled floor. The big man was standing over the square hole, his eyes gazing down into it as he waited for Gerald to get to the top.

"Where are we?" Miles asked as he looked around. They looked to be in a hallway with a small electric light and door at the end. The walls had been painted bright yellow and the ceiling had small twisty looking bulbs every five feet that now only hung there, gray and dead.

"A hallway." The man said unconversationally.

After Gerald made it up, the man pulled a large manhole made out of fruitcake from the wall and set it over the hole. Then, with a flick of the tails on his coat, he went to the door at the end of the hall and unlocked it. Miles frowned, surprised to notice that the man now appeared to have a limp."In here." He commanded.

"I hope we didn't come all this way just for him to eat us," Gerald whispered, voicing Miles's worst fear.

Trying to be rational, Miles followed after the man and through the doorway.

The room around him was dimly lit and covered in trash. Ammunition, bullet shells, candy, test tubes and scraps of machinery were scattered all around the place. A small path through all the chaos led to a big dusty looking sofa and upright lamp. The sofa had a few sheets and blankets sprawled haphazardly across it and looked like it'd been slept in.

At the end of the room, next to the sofa, stood the man with weapon still in hand. His chocolate-brown skin shone softly under the dim lights. He had a crumbling mahogany top hat placed on his bare head. He wore a tail coat of purple velvet that Miles could tell had once looked quite sharp and stately, but now was torn and beaten, both sleeves ripped off at the shoulders, the rest of the suit covered in chocolate stains, dirt, and soot. His exposed arms were like tree trunks, bulging biceps and forearms, each either wrapped in bandages or covered in scars from previous wounds. Half his face was burnt and scarred from deep cuts, giving him a ghoulish appearance. On the side of his face that wasn't damaged, he could see the man hadn't shaved in a while, black stubble emerging across the lower portion of his jaw.

_Who the hell is this guy and what is he doing in Willy Wonka's factory? _His dress made Miles think that maybe...but no, that was just crazy.

As much as Miles was staring at the stranger, the stranger was doing the same to them, his eyes narrowed into slits as he scrutinized their faces and attire.

Finally the big man cocked an eyebrow at Miles and broke the silence.

"So, either of you wanna tell me who the hell you are and why you're dressed up like those little freaks out there?" he asked, his grip on his gun never loosening.

Miles licked his lips. "I'm Miles Gobie. This is Gerald Nikes." He swallowed hard, his eyebrows drawing together. "Who the hell _are_ you?"

The man snorted. "I'm Willy Wonka, bitch."

Miles's heart skipped a beat. So it was him. "Willy Wonka? The Willy Wonka?" He managed. This was the man that was supposedly behind it all! Willy Wonka, leader of the Oompa Loompas! What was he doing killing the O.L? Miles heart pattered anxiously and he wasn't sure of anything now except that he wanted to have his glock placed back firmly between his palms. But Wonka was still sporting his gun which, now that Miles looked at it, didn't look like a normal rifle at all. No doubt that if Miles made any move to draw his weapon, Wonka would blow him away.

"Yep, and don't you forget it." The man went over to the sofa and fell back into it with a muffled groan.

"But…but why were you killing the Oompa Loompas then?" Gerald asked.

He snorted. "Because the little bastards tried to kill me and damn near did." He said with contempt. "Thankfully, I'm a little harder to get rid of than that."

"So you're not behind all the attacks?" Miles asked, still feeling confused.

"Are you kidding me?" Wonka cried, outraged. "What an insult. I'm human, not a monster like them!" He gestured wildly towards the door they'd entered through. "I'd never be able to do that to all those people. I even tried to stop it, best I could."

Miles and Gerald shared equally shocked looks.

"If you're Willy Wonka…then who's running this place?" Miles asked.

Wonka settled back down some, his lip curling into a sneer. "Some ugly sonovabitch, I don't know what his name really is, if any of them actually have names, but I call him Gloobenstomper. He's easily recognizable, his left eye's been replaced with an Everlasting Gobstopper. He took over right after they tried to kill me."

"But why? Why did they try to kill you? What do they want?" Miles asked, desperate for answers to all the questions that had been plaguing him from the very first day of the Takeover.

"They want to spread, kill and conquer, just like any self justified species. Given the opportunity, or the idea, they act on it." Wonka said while he kicked his feet up onto a small table in front of him. "I paid them in cacao beans. When the world cacao bean supply began to slump, I was forced to cut back their wages. I guess that was all the reason they needed." He said simply. He must have decided he could trust Miles and Gerald, as right then he put his gun down on the couch beside him.

Miles frowned. After all this time, that was the answer? Somehow that didn't make sense, just didn't sound like the truth. Maybe that was half of it but...Miles had a feeling Wonka wasn't telling them everything. There had to be more. _I'll wait and pursue that later. _He decided."When did they try to kill you? How long have you been down here?" Miles picked his way around some of the clutter so that he could be closer.

"About a year I guess. It's not like I celebrate the anniversary or anything."

"How have you managed to stay alive?" Gerald asked with wonderment as he found a stool to sit on.

Wonka grinned darkly at Gerald, as if about to let him in on a secret. "These little freaks think they know everything about this place, but they don't. I grew up here doing nothing but discovering every place. Every nook and cranny. Take this place. It's a room the original Wonka used as a private inventing room when he didn't want to be disturbed." He jutted a thumb towards one of the portraits on the wall that displayed a smiling man with unruly strawberry-blonde hair and blue eyes. "Not even the second Wonka knew about this room. I've been using it as my headquarters since they revolted. I had to make some adjustments of course, took out the elevator on the entrance you came through and changed some of the other entries so they couldn't follow me. It's set up pretty good now. If they tried to get in here, I promise they'd die trying. Just take the entrance you came through, they'd have to brave the cold, which they hate, and then, while they tried to make it up the ladder, I could just pick them off from the top. And that'd only be if they were after me, which never happens, since I can always outrun them." Wonka thumbed his nose, looking proud of himself and also happy to finally have someone to brag to.

Gerald nodded in awe. "That's so cool."

"Wait…hold up." Miles said. "If you've been fighting down here for a year, why didn't you warn us about the poisoned candy? Tell people before it's too late?"

The grin fell from Wonka's face as he turned to Miles, his eyes growing cold and his face twisting into something unpleasant. "I've about had enough of your accusations. I think you should be thanking me, considering I just saved your worthless hides from getting made into brownies."

Hearing Wonka's tone, Miles felt the blood drain from his face. His question had worth, but maybe he shouldn't have asked. _He's been down here for a year all alone, Miles, maybe it'd be a good idea not to get on his bad side. _Miles was about to apologize or something (probably stutter stupidly) when Wonka spoke again.

"And what about you two, huh?" Wonka spat. Literally. "So you decided to dress up like Oompa Loompas and sneak your way in? How'd you think that would go? And once you got in here, what were you going to do? Take a swim in the chocolate river?" He snorted. "You guys are either really brave, or extremely stupid. It's a wonder you're still alive."

Miles clenched his jaw and flicked his eyes to Gerald. Who was he to judge them in any way? It was his fault, Miles knew somehow, that this had happened. He was Willy Wonka, the Oompa Loompas were his responsibility. And why hadn't he warned the world? "We're here on a mission to take revenge on them for what they did. And we would have been able to make it out of the Chocolate Room just fine without you."

Wonka cackled wildly. "Yeah right, and my leg ain't a glorified stick of peppermint!" He pulled up the material of his pants on his right leg, revealing a thin curved sheet of something that very much resembled peppermint.

"Holy shit!" Gerald cried, falling backwards off his stool.

"What the hell happened to your leg?" Miles asked with horror.

Wonka leaned back farther into the couch, his hands coming up and locking behind his head. "It got cut off by the blades on the fudge floor. After they jumped me in The Chocolate Room and tried to drown me in the river, I floated, only partially conscious into the fudge floor. That's where the river empties. Most of the burns are from the fudge furnace."

Miles and Gerald both stared unashamedly at Wonka's fake leg. It was strapped to his real leg just beneath the knee with buckles and straps. Running down from the cup like piece that held his knee was a running blade that ended in a small rectangular foot that had a soft sole with cleats. "Yup. It's made out of candy fiber." Wonka explained. "It sucks for walking. But when those little bastards are after you, walking's the last thing you're worried about. I run faster with this thing on than I did when I had both legs and was ten years younger."

"Did you...make this?" Miles asked.

"No, I ordered it off Amazon." Wonka said sarcastically. "Of course I fucking made it, I'm a Wonka! I invent things! Just now...the things I make have to be more useful." He finished his sentence in a mutter.

"Is it still edible...?" Gerald asked as he marveled at it.

Wonka narrowed his eyes and gave Gerald a sideways look. "That's for me to know and you to never find out."

"Wonka..." Miles began, his eyes staring at Wonka's. "We're trying to do the same thing, get revenge. Our mission...well...we could use your help."

Wonka cocked an eyebrow. "Me? Help you?"

"Yes. You've been down here for years, you know them like no one else. We could use your expertise. We need to find some way to hit them hard. Surely you know of some weakness that they possess. Together we could do this." Finding Wonka had been a stroke of luck and Miles was starting to think that maybe this mission wasn't completely blown.

Wonka was shaking his head. "You guys are just kids, you'll only get hurt. You're no good to me. Besides, I work best alone. The only thing I'm willing to help you with is showing you a way back to the surface, if you stay down here you'll only get yourselves killed. Leave the city and try to find other survivors, I'm sure there are people up there that could use your help."

Gerald stood suddenly, his face stiff."We may be just kids, but we're willing to do whatever it takes. We lost our families to those monsters. We can't just run away from this. We have to avenge them, no matter the cost. And there's no way out of the city." He pointed to Miles. "Miles tried to escape from the city with his Mom, and she was killed by border control. The whole city is surrounded; we're trapped. And Miles's time is limited. He has Type 1 diabetes, and eventually there won't be any supply of insulin left in this city. He'll go into a diabetic coma and never wake up. It's not if, but when with him."

Miles looked to the floor as Wonka's eyes found him. That was his story, but it was still weird to hear Gerald tell it.

Gerald continued."A few days after his Mom was shot, he almost died in a busted mini-mart because he ran out of insulin. That day when I found him, I thought I saved him. But if I'm completely honest with myself...I was planning on committing suicide the very next day. There was nothing left for me, all my friends, all my family were dead." Gerald's brown eyes found Miles's green ones for a moment. "It's because of him, and his plan, that I've stayed sane and alive. I'd follow him to the very fucking end. This is the only thing left for us to do. We don't have any other options." Gerald turned back to Wonka, his tone scathing. "And you have no right to mock our methods, we're fighting the only way we can. If we don't fight, we might as well just shoot ourselves. And if you're not with us...fuck you, Miles and I will figure it out like we always do."

Wonka considered Gerald for one long moment. "Alright." He said finally, his eyes now roving back to Miles. "You mean business, I can see that now."

Miles stood tall with Gerald and waited.

Wonka took his feet off the table and sat up. "I'll help you guys get to where you need to be. And there's a lot of stuff you need to know. But first..." He gave each of them the once over. "You guys look like idiots. There's a sink behind that door, go get cleaned up before I shoot you out of paranoia." He grumbled.


	8. Chapter 8

VIII

"Michael, I want you to take over the Chocolate Factory for me."

The man in the purple velvet tail coat had been silent a good while as he'd lead the young black boy and his mother through the factory to the exit. It had been a long day, full of excitement, wonder, and surprises as Mr. Wonka had given them the grand tour. But now he had stopped walking completely and spoke. He stood just ahead, his back to them.

The young boy, Michael, glanced at his mother. She looked equally confused. "What did you say Mr. Wonka?" he asked.

"Listen, Michael," said Wonka, turning to face him and leaning down so he could clasp the boy's shoulders. He looked as if he'd made up his mind on something. "I'm getting older, and I need someone to take over the business when I'm no longer able. I need someone to take care of the Oompa Loompas. I need someone to take over the title of Willy Wonka." The man's face broke into a smile. "I need you."

Michael's eyes went wide. "You…you want me to...to what? Replace you?

Wonka nodded.

"Me?"

"Mr. Wonka, he's just a child!" His mother said, looking disapproving.

"But that's just the thing!" Wonka said, grinning at them both. "He's a child! And that's what this job requires!" He looked to Michael's mother. "That's what this was all for! This whole escapade: the golden tickets, the tour, it's to find my replacement. And I choose him. You and your son would be taken care of for the rest of your lives, I guarantee that."

Michael's mother's face softened some. "Really now...?" she hummed.

"That is…" He turned back to the boy. "If you want to do it."

Michael was nervous. "But I don't know how."

"Don't worry about that Michael; we have plenty of time to teach you. I'm not just going to walk out on you. And you'll love it. It's making candy, take it from me, it's always fun." He searched the boy's eyes. "So…what do you say?"

The boy took a deep breath. The factory, the chocolate river, the glass elevator, the Oompa Loompas. All his? "I'd love to Mr. Wonka." He beamed.

"Please," the man said, once more smiling. "Call me Charlie."

"Are you done yet?"

"No, my hair's still kinda green."

"It said it would wash out after 3 washes, not one. Get out of the way and let me have the sink."

"But I look stupid."

"You always look stupid."

Wonka turned his head towards the washroom as he listened to the boys bicker. They were so young. Was he really going to let them help him fight the Oompa Loompas?

_They're not going to leave, so I might as well make use of them._ Wonka sighed as he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. He reached up and pulled his top hat from his head. _They've got the spirit, even if they don't have the skill. _He considered his top hat in his hands for a moment. _But they don't know what they're getting into. _He curled his fingers into the top hat's brim, crumpling it.

If they fought with him and did what he'd been planning, they'd be heading deep underground, into the very heart of the factory. Where the really dangerous O.L. presided.

The Renders.

The loyalist pack of O.L. to the leader, Gloobenstomper. They were a specially trained killing squad that had been created after the coup. Their mission? Protect Gloobenstomper from his biggest threat, Wonka himself, by obliterating Wonka once and for all. Wonka had tousled with them a few times in the last year. Every meeting had ended in another casualty for them, and another injury for Wonka that sent him back in the dark depths of the factory to recover.

The Renders were sick in the head. Had no compassion, no weakness, no fear.

And never once had he heard them sing.

"We're back." Miles announced as he and Gerald reentered the room. Wonka looked up at them. Their hair was dripping wet, and now only slightly green. Miles's skin had been scrubbed clean of orange, now revealing a bit of freckles on his face.

Gerald was back to looking like a normal human being as well, only the welts that were spreading across his neck and exposed forearms marring his pale skin. Wonka assumed the injuries were gumball slug inflicted.

"So," Miles asked, finding an empty crate to sit on."What have you got for us?"

Wonka set his top hat down beside him, relinquishing it from his fidgeting hands. "I've been trying to attack their food supply. I've been torching their goddamn cacao bean fields forever, but they just keep planting more and tightening security. What I've really been needing to do is find where they're actually storing the dried beans. One of their main weaknesses is that they're isolated. If we destroy every last bean, they'll starve. Problem is, I could never seem to find the right room."

"I thought you said you knew where everything was down here." Gerald said with impudence.

Wonka scowled. "I know where every room is, kid, not where every_thing_ is. There are thousands of rooms down here, it's taken me this long just to narrow down the search. Especially since they've moved things around."

"So…you think you've finally found the room, right?" Miles asked.

Wonka's dark eyes rose and pierced Miles. "I don't know. But there is a room that I haven't been able to get into. It used to be the room for edible marshmallow pillows. It's protected so heavily, there's got to be something in there worth destroying. And with your help," Wonka's eyes roved to look at Gerald. "We might—hey! You aren't even listening to me!"

Gerald looked up from the Playboy magazine he'd picked off the floor.

"Gimme that, you shit!" Wonka said, tearing it from his hands.

"Seriously?" Miles asked his friend.

Gerald shrugged. "What? I'm no good at planning. You guys just figure it out and then tell me what to do."

Wonka stuffed his mag into his couch. "If you get your brain working then we won't have to waste time telling you later!"

"Okay, okay…I'm listening." Gerald said, sounding bored.

"What I was saying is that the room's main entrance has been permanently blocked. All that's left is the little elevators that the O.L. use. Now obviously, I can't fit into any of those. What we do is send you guys through and into the room. Whatever the hell you find, you blow to smithereens. Got it?"

Miles was nodding. "Yeah, let's do it."

Wonka grinned. "Alright. Now let's get you guys some decent weapons."

**Please bear with me, the next chap is not them picking out their guns, it jumps right to trying to get into the room and more action. I'm sorry if some parts of these last two chaps were boring, it's sometimes hard to explain all this stuff in an interesting way. **


	9. Chapter 9

IX

"This is what you'll need to blow the place." Wonka said, handing each of them two opaque packs of some red liquidy material. "Lick em' and stick 'em, it's that simple. After that you've got about 20 seconds to get your butts out of there."

"20 seconds..." Miles said, nodding and committing it to memory.

"What flavor are these?" Gerald asked.

Wonka rolled his eyes, exasperated. "Bloody Albatross flavor! What do you care?"

"Jeez..." Gerald said. "Touchy."

All three of them were in the ventilation shaft directly above the only working entrance into the room formerly used to make Edible Marshmallow Pillows. Their target. Through the slots in the vent plate, they could see an empty hallway with two O.L. sized elevators inset into one wall. Wonka was sandwiched on one side of the passageway, Miles and Gerald on the other. Gerald had wrapped a rolled up bandanna around his head, making him look like some kind of blond karate kid, and it was already getting damp with sweat. The journey through the air vents had not been too bad, but now that they were all crammed together, they were blocking the air flow and it was getting stuffy. Miles was just glad that since the ventilation shafts were big enough to fit Wonka, they were big enough to not activate Gerald's minor claustrophobia.

"Get your head in the game," Wonka chided Gerald. "You're going down there first. Remember the plan. You see an O.L. and you drop him, then drag his body into the elevator with you. These ain't no Wonkavators, you just press down, and when you get there, wait for Peter Pan over here." Wonka gestured toward Miles. "He may be a minute, because just like you, he'll have to wait for an Oompa Loompa to come by and punch the code in before he can drop him and come down, so don't get jumpy on the explosives."

Gerald nodded. "I understand."

"Good. Once you're in, stash the unconscious O.L., plant your charges and get out. Something like that anyway, once you're in, you'll have to figure that out. Now, unlike them, we aren't telepathic, so this is how we'll communicate." Wonka said, handing them some earpieces. "Keep me in the loop, and if something goes wrong, alert me right away."

"Wait...they're telepathic?" Miles asked, shocked.

Wonka looked at him. "Yeah, how else did you think they knew what the hell the other ones were going to sing?"

"I knew it!" Gerald cried pumping his fist as much as he could in their cramped situation. "They're a-sexual too, right?"

Just then, an Oompa Loompa entered the room and made his way to one of the elevators. He went to the keypad and began punching in the code.

"That's your target. Go get him." Wonka whispered. He punched the vent plate, it unlatched on one side and swung open with a clang. The Oompa Loompa had just finished his code, the door to the elevator just begining to open when Gerald dropped down from the ceiling. Landing like a cat, Gerald swung out and kicked the O.L.'s stubby legs out from under him. The O.L. fell flat on his ass. That didn't stop him from reaching for the weapon holstered to his leg. Gerald stopped him with a quick sucker punch in the face.

With that, Gerald pulled the unconscious body with him into the elevator and punched the button. As the doors closed, he let out a war cry and pounded his chest. "St. Crispin's DAAAAYY!"

Miles and Wonka cringed. Anyone within a 50 ft radius would have heard him. _Idiot! _Miles thought. Wonka reached down and pulled the vent plate back up and into the ceiling. They waited for a moment, expecting guards to come rushing in. But no one came.

Miles nodded, approving. It was a success then. He only hoped his own ascent would be as quick and uneventful.

"What the hell's wrong with him?!" Wonka whispered harshly.

"What?" Miles asked.

"What is up with him? Why is he so...so...so the way he is?!" Wonka demanded.

Miles shrugged. "I don't know."

"Fuck..." Wonka muttered.

Miles looked at Wonka. "I have a theory though."

Wonka narrowed his eyes. "I'm listening."

"He was overweight before the Takeover. Like, child obesity levels. When all the chocolate giveaway's started, his parents didn't allow him to eat any of it because he was supposed to be losing weight. Well, they saved his life, even if they didn't abstain from the chocolate themselves and save their own. But, Gerald told me that he _did_ eat some chocolate." Miles nodded at Wonka's look of disbelief. "He filched half a Wonka bar. It wasn't enough to kill him, though. While everyone else just never woke up, he got really sick. He couldn't eat anything for a week, he was blowing chunks everywhere. And then…he just got better. Now _he says_ that there was no permanent damage to his internal organs or anything. And that may be true, but what can't be proved is that it didn't do anything to his _brain_."

Wonka seemed to consider this.

Miles shrugged. "He's actually mellowed out a little lately, he's been worse. It's just my theory. Don't tell Gerald."

"That actually explains a lot." Wonka said. He actually looked impressed."Considering that, you're right, he's doing pretty good."

"Hey, you idiots! You do realize I just heard everything you just said, right?!" A voice squawked in both their ears.

Miles and Wonka both stared at each other in shock. Of course, the earpieces were already on and working. Miles clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle his laughter. Wonka did the same, the two snickering as quietly as they could.

"You assholes, I can hear you laughing!" Gerald swore. "I'll deal with you two later, I just made it to the room."

"I'll be coming soon." Miles whispered as an Oompa Loompa entered the hallway. He couldn't remember the last time he'd actually laughed. It felt good. _Hopefully I'll live long enough to do it again. _Miles thought as he watched the O.L. finish punching it's code into the keypad.

"Get that sonavabitch." Wonka said as he released his grip on the vent screen.

Miles gave Wonka a grin before launching himself down and going all kung fu on the unsuspecting enemy.

Another success, only a moment later he was crammed in the elevator with the unconscious O.L. on his way down into the room. Miles wished he could have killed the orange menace, but gunshot had been out of the question, since it would cause too much noise. "I'm almost there, Gerald." Miles said.

"Yeah well, hurry." Gerald responded. "Cause you're gonna wanna see this."

"What is it? Something bad?"

"Yeah. Real bad."

What was it? Miles's mind raced as he made his way down. _Hordes of Oompa Loompas? A giant weapon? _Miles chewed his lip._ It doesn't matter. Whatever it is, we'll deal with it. _Like they always did, Gerald and him. _We'll figure it-_

The lift suddenly stopped and the doors to the elevator slid open. Miles's eyes grew wide. Gerald had said it was bad. Dear Lord, it was worse.


	10. Chapter 10

X

He stepped out of the elevator and found himself in a gigantic circular room. The walls were high and painted a light blue, and there were hundreds of machines scattered throughout. The entryway that housed the elevators was sheltered by a walkway on the second floor that encircled the whole room. This area, in which Miles and Gerald crouched, was therefore protected from the bright lights of the central dais, making it shadowy and dim. They hadn't been spotted. Yet.

"Hey, what's going on?" Wonka demanded from their earpieces. "Are you guys gonna blow the place or what?"

"Negative. There...there are people down here Wonka." Miles managed.

"What did you just say?"

"There are people down here." There was at least a hundred people in the room. And they were being used like slaves. They were working with the machines, grinding, pounding, cranking, making weapons of every sort. And they were all in a terrible state. Sickly and pale faces abounded.

Oompa Loompas stood around and watched the workers, their rifles and weapons holstered but within easy reach should one of the workers put up a fuss. Thankfully the room was so noisy and busy with work that Miles and Gerald's arrival had gone unnoticed.

"People?" Wonka repeated in Miles's earpiece, sounding completely dumbfounded.

"This mission's changed to reconnaissance and rescue. We're going to try to find a place to hide before we're noticed." Miles whispered.

They hurriedly dragged the unconscious O.L. behind a few empty boxes that lay under the entry way. Miles made to get down and try to cram himself next to them but Gerald pulled him back.

"No, I say we stash our weapons and blend. We need to find out what's going on."

"What? Blend? You don't think they'll recognize us?" Miles asked incredulously. "You're nuts! If we put down our guns we'll be just as screwed and powerless as these people!"

"No, trust me, I feel like this is what we should do." Gerald said. "If we sit here, we won't be gaining anything!"

"No way." Miles said firmly. "We'll just be getting ourselves killed!"

"Hey, morons!" Wonka's static voice came through their earpieces. "To each his own. If Gerald wants to blend, let him. You can be his backup in case something goes wrong."

Miles nodded. "I agree. Gerald, if you want to go out there and blend, then do it. I'm staying here."

Gerald glanced quickly at the rest of the room before nodding. "Fine, I will." He slid his special rifle that Wonka had given him off and handed it to Miles along with his regular handgun. "I'll try to find a way to get these people out of here if I can."

"I've got your back if anything happens, okay?" Miles said anxiously, upset that Gerald was going it alone. Miles figured he was either not brave enough or not dumb enough to do what Gerald was about to do.

Gerald merely nodded before turning and striding out into the harsh light. He was completely unarmed and surrounded by the enemy…

And scared shitless. Without his ammo and weapons Gerald felt naked, merely trusting in Miles and his own half baked idea that the O.L. would not notice another crummy human entering the throng.

Immediately he was proved wrong. An Oompa Loompa pointed at him and within seconds he was confronted with the barrel of a rifle. He froze, his eyes going wide.

Behind the boxes in the entryway, Miles's finger was tightly wrapped around the trigger of his own gun.

But the Oompa Loompa did not fire. He just whacked Gerald on the head with the barrel of the rifle and then shoved him and pushed him along until he was in line with some other workers.

Miles let out a shuddery breath of relief, and relaxed his grip on his weapon.

Gerald stared at the table in front of him. There was a pile of shining metal disks, a pile of thin hardened taffy cylinders, a huge pan full of fine yellow dust, and then a pan full of tiny hardened odd shaped balls. _Are those Nerds? _Gerald thought as he took a closer look at the last item.

WHACK! The Oompa Loompa from before hit him upside the head with the barrel of its rifle. Gerald gritted his teeth and convinced himself to not lash out and kick the little shit's ass. Instead he grabbed a handful of each thing on the table and began trying to imitate the other workers around him.

It took him only a moment of watching to realize what they were making.

Nerdshot.

Wonka's famous Nerd candies were now rock hard and when fired from a shotgun, deadly. Another new invention; a new weapon. One that would soon be out on the streets in the hands of every O.L. if it wasn't stopped.

Aware that he was being watched, Gerald quickly picked up the monotonous process of connecting the blasting cap with the shell and then filling it with the gunpowder and Nerds before heating the taffy slightly and twisting it shut.

As soon as the Oompa Loompa behind him was content that he was working hard enough, it drifted away to watch others, giving Gerald the chance to notice his co-workers.

He was stunned to find that all the people around him were maimed in some way. The man across the table from him was missing his left arm. The old man to his left had burns all the way up his arms and strange oozing green welts on his face.

Gerald looked over at the girl to his right with the chopped up dirty blonde hair. She turned her head to meet his gaze and he saw that she had a large bandage over her right eye. She frowned at him. "You're new." She whispered, her thick rimmed glasses askew on her face.

"Yeah."

She looked back at her work. "I'm Maybelynne."

"Gerald." He glanced nervously around to see if any of the O.L. noticed that they were talking. "Listen, I have a friend and we're going to try to get everyone out of here. Will you help me?"

Maybelynne's good eye looked down at him with skepticism. "Really, kid?"

Gerald scowled. He was not a kid. The girl herself looked like she was only 16. "Yes, really." He growled.

She looked back down at him, her expression now somewhere between intrigued and unsure. "No shit?"

"My friend is armed and hiding out in the entryway. I have an explosive pack in my pocket. I'm ready to do something, but I don't know this place. Do you have any ideas? Plans? Can any of you fight?"

Maybelynne looked worried. For a long moment she said nothing."Everyone here will fight with their last breath, but we're all in poor condition. I don't know how much good we can do."

"None of that matters." The man with the missing left arm hissed from across the table. "We want to fight." He spoke with ardor, his eyes staring straight into Gerald's. Then he looked to Maybelynne. "This is our chance, May."

"Can we trust this kid, though?" She asked, chewing her lip.

"We're either going to snap one of these days and attack these monsters, getting ourselves all killed, or roll with this kid and…maybe not all die."

"Eloquently said, Erving." The older man to Gerald's left wheezed sarcastically.

Maybelynne still looked uncertain.

Just then the doors burst open on the second floor walkway and out stepped an Oompa Loompa. His green hair was a few shades darker than the others and pulled back into a tight ponytail. A pair of goggles rested on top of his head. He was dressed in a long white doctor's coat that was splattered with all kinds of colorful stains. Purple, blue, orange, pink, every color of the rainbow. But the most common color of the stains was red. Blood red.

He came to the balcony's edge and leaned over the railing, his small eyes roving across the sea of workers. Gerald could not explain why, but his heart started beating faster. The whole atmosphere of the room had gone cold. All the worker's faces were stricken as they stared hard at their work and took great care to do nothing to attract attention.

"Who is he?" Gerald whispered, his eyes unable to tear away from the O.L.

Maybelynne grabbed his head and forced his face down. "Don't stare, idiot!" She said, her voice panicked. "That's Dr. Kordata."

The Doctor watched them all, and then suddenly, pointed at a little boy on the other side of the room. The guards closest to the boy leapt to life and grabbed him. Screaming and crying, the boy was dragged up the staircase to the Doctor. The Doctor looked him over before nodding with approval. The child was carried away and past the double doors that Dr. Kordata had emerged out of.

The Doctor turned back to the workers below him.

He bowed.

And then, with a flip of his doctor's coat, he followed the boy and his captors into the room. The double doors clicked shut, silencing the boy's crying. All was silent as for a moment, the workers paused.

And then the singing began.

_Oom_-pa _Loom_-pa Doompity _Doo_,

I'll tell you some-thing that you know is _true_.

The guards stood at their posts, their voices ringing loud through the room.

_Oom_-pa _Loom_-pa Doompity _Day_,

Best not to fight, you can't run _a-way_.

If you are cho-sen, it is an _honor_,

You will become tested by _fire_,

And born again as something brand _NEEEW!_

That's what Dr.-Kor-data-wants-for _you_!

"What was that all about?" Gerald whispered as the singing stopped and the chill lifted from the room. Maybelynne didn't look at him, her jaw muscles working silently as she stared down at her work.

"Dr. Kordata does experiments on us." Erving said. "That's how I lost my arm. He's trying to explore the human anatomy, discover our weaknesses and …" He swallowed. "…play. He's done it to all of us. Every day he chooses another victim to undergo his surgeries. Like little Calvin, today." Erving's voice caught at the boy's name. He cleared his throat and continued. "Most of the time, if you can make it through the pain, the survival rate is okay. Dr. Kordata wants his patients to survive so he can see if his work is a success."

The old man spoke then, his voice reedy. "Right. Dr. Kordata can't do the really dangerous and invasive surgeries on us because the Loompas need us as slaves. But if they can catch a rebel like yourself alive, they like to bring them down here to be experimented on and tortured. They never make it; they're not really supposed to." The old man coughed. "Dr. Kordata's demand for rebels to experiment on has grown as of late. Quite a few have been brought by." The old man shook his head, his eyes holding a depth of sadness that could not be measured by any instrument. "Dear Lord I pity them." He whispered. "There's not a worse way to die in hell if you ask me. You can hear their screams for days…"

Gerald's lungs couldn't seem to accept air. So that's why they had not killed him in the yard of the Chocolate Factory. If Miles and Wonka had not saved him, the O.L. would have taken him to this room, and up those stairs into the Doctor's lair. To a grisly demise filled with endless pain…

Maybelynne's bandage was wet when she turned back to Gerald. _Wet with tears?_ he wondered.

"We'll do it," she said "We'll help you do whatever it takes. But we don't leave here without killing Dr. Kordata."


	11. Chapter 11

XI

"I OFFER MYSELF WILLINGLY TO THE SCIENTIFIC RESEARCH OF DR. KORDATA!" Gerald cried.

All work ceased. The room went silent.

"I will give myself willingly! If he will just spare Calvin, the little boy."

The guards looked at each other in confusion and wonder, none of them sure what to do. But Gerald now knew (thanks to Wonka) that even if the Doctor had not been able to hear his proclamation from behind the closed doors, that he would pick it up in seconds from the others telepathically.

On cue, the Doctor burst from the operating room, and pushed his goggles back onto the top of his head. His gaze immediately fell to Gerald, the only person that was standing up on his workstation.

Gerald's hands were shaking, he clenched them into fists and they were still. "Well? Do we have a deal? You can do whatever you want to me, I don't care. Just let him go."

The Doctor looked him up and down, his eyes hard and unforgiving. Gerald stared back, his face bruised, unflinchingly determined, and infuriated.

At last, the Doctor took a step back from the railing and nodded his head. He would accept.

Gerald got down from the table and allowed himself to be taken by the Oompa Loompas. He looked back, his eyes first settling upon Mabelynne's face, whose jaw was set. She nodded, a sign of approval and trust in him.

Then he quickly stole a glance at where Miles was hidden.

And he winked.

"He winked! That motherfucker!" Miles whispered in awe.

"What? What's going on?" Wonka demanded through his earpiece. They didn't have radio communication with Gerald as he had taken out his earpiece just in case someone was to look closely at him.

"He winked at me." Miles was grinning. "He's got a plan. I can't believe it, he came up with a plan!"

Wonka snorted. "_He_ came up with a plan? Yeah, he probably just got help from one of the slaves."

Miles didn't care either way, he was excited and anxious for some action.

Gerald blinked in an attempt to get his eyes to adjust as the double doors clicked shut behind him, cutting him off from the others. The room before him was dimly lit, and longer than it was wide. The sides were lined with hand-drawn diagrams and instruments whose purpose baffled him. At the end of the room, under the beams of fluorescent lights, was the operating table where the little boy Calvin was being unstrapped.

The boy was shaking. Then he noticed Gerald's presence and his terrified eyes found Gerald's.

"It's okay." Gerald promised. "They're going to let you go." He attempted to give the kid an encouraging smile.

They lifted Calvin from the table and placed him on his feet. He looked up at Gerald, his tear stained face red, and for a second, he hesitated. Gerald raised his eyebrows and indicated the door with his head. "Go."

Calvin flat out ran from the room and burst out into the factory. Gasps and cries of "Calvin!" erupted from the workers. Then the doors swung closed, silencing them.

Gerald turned to find himself confronted with the Doctor. With a finger, the Doctor indicated that it was time for him to get on the operating table. Heart beating a mile a minute, Gerald went to the table. It was an off-white color, with chains and cuffs hanging from each corner. The chains fit into slots on the edge, making it adjustable so that it could be used on people of different height. It was also toddler height, so the Doctor could easily have access to the patient. Gerald promptly noticed that the top of the table was marred with cuts and saw marks from where the Doctor's instruments had made it through the patient and cut into the table. The whole thing smelled strongly of cleaning products. But even the chemicals couldn't eliminate the underlying scent of blood and decay that surrounded the area. Trying not to chuck, Gerald turned his back to it and lowered himself down to sit.

The Doctor took a syringe and after firmly taking Gerald's arm, began drawing his blood.

Gerald looked up to see that there were still four other Oompa Loompa's in the room, obviously there in case he put up a fuss. None of them said a word, all of them staring silently at him or observing the Doctor's motions.

The silence was stifling, Gerald couldn't take it any longer.

"So, do I get a lollypop when you're done? Maybe I'm a little old for that but…" he looked to the others. "You guys have probably got a lot laying around, right? And I haven't eaten in like—"

The Doctor pulled the needle from his arm, causing Gerald to hiss in discomfort. "…a day I guess? And then it was only an old pop-tart. On that note, you should probably give me one right now since my blood sugar's low. You want me to make it through the surgery right? And I'll need plenty of—"

"Silence."

Gerald's face went white. He stared in absolute terror at Doctor Kordata. He had...spoken? No, it wasn't possible!

"You have forfeited your life to me. You do not get to make requests." Doctor Kordata said in perfect English, his voice smooth and low.

Gerald felt sure that he'd lost touch with reality. He'd certainly lost touch with all his extremities.

"Now…" The Doctor pointed at his shirt and then jutted a thumb away.

Gerald just stared blankly, his mind in shock. After a moment, the Doctor cleared his throat.

"The shirt. Right." Gerald managed, removing his tank top. As the Doctor went to retrieve an instrument of his choice, Gerald struggled to marshal his thoughts. He'd had a plan. He had! What had it been though…? What had it been?!

The Doctor returned, holding a 10 inch steel knife, and motioned for the other four to strap Gerald onto the table.

Gerald remembered.

He launched himself laterally across the table and sent his foot into Doctor's Kordata stomach. Then he ripped the blade from his grip, pulled back on the Doctor's ponytail and fit the edge of the blade to his throat. "One move and I slit his throat!" Gerald cried.

The other four had only just grabbed their weapons, each of them having been caught off guard by his speed of movement.

"I mean it!" Gerald said. "Don't test me you little fuckers!"

The Doctor was taking shallow breaths so as not to get cut. But as Gerald watched, his eyes found each of his comrades.

"Hey, no mind shit!" Gerald commanded as he hit the Doctor on the head.

The Doctor made an oomph sound and the other four immediately lowered their weapons.

Gerald laughed triumphantly. "Hahaha! You guys thought I was all busted didn't you? All these bruises and everything? Hah!" He hooked his right arm around the Doctor's neck and slid the blade up to rest it's edge on the Doctor's face."Oh and by the way, I lied. I ate like twenty sticks of beef jerky earlier." Gerald used his free hand to pull something from his pocket. "And I work out like every day. You really think I'd come in here on an empty stomach?" He brought up a slim red pack full of some liquid material and licked it. "Guess what, Dr. Kordata. I'm going to blow this place to hell." He said as he stuck it to the operating table. "So all your sick research will go up in flames."

"No!" The Doctor cried, and simultaneously stomped on Gerald's foot and elbowed him in the gut. The combination knocked Gerald back and onto the floor, his knife slicing only thin air as the Doctor slid from his grasp.

The guards brought up their weapons, and Gerald went into attack mode.

He kicked the Doctor's back as he attempted to retreat behind two of the Oompa Loompas and sent him flying into them. He then threw the knife into the arm of the third guard as he got onto one knee.

By this time the fourth one was firing and Gerald felt a white hot stab of pain go through his right arm. But before the O.L. got his aim straight, Gerald managed to lunge forward and throw the Loompa into the wall.

He'd already activated the bomb, he knew he didn't have any time left. He bolted for the door as fast as he could. Another bullet whizzed by, and caught him in the leg. He faltered for only a moment, his arms and legs pumping as he reached the door and—

_BOOOOOOOOOOOMMM!_

The whole place shook as a massive fireball blasted from the doors of the operating room, sending a young teen sailing out and over the balcony.

Miles knew who that was. He burst from the cover of his boxes and ran into the main room, his rifle cracking as he picked off any Oompa Loompa's that threatened to inhibit his path toward his fallen friend.

The slaves had also taken the cue. They rose up with a thousand cries of war and pain and fell upon the Oompa Loompa guards like a pack of wolves. Blood splattered across the air as the unarmed workers fell to the gunshot of the O.L.. But the tide could not be stopped. Soon the guards would be overtaken.

Miles paid no mind to either as he ran, ignoring even the sound of Wonka's voice in his ears, and the fire raging across the room, slowly nearing the gunpowder.

"Gerald!" He cried as he reached his friend. Gerald was sprawled out on one of the tables, completely unconscious and bleeding from a bullet hole in his right shoulder and a graze on his leg. Miles grabbed him from under the arms and drug him off the table to set him on the floor.

"Stay with me, buddy." Miles said as he found his packet of clotting agent that Wonka had given him. "Gerald's been hit." He said to Wonka as he tore open the packet.

"To hell with this!" Wonka said. "I'm getting out of this stupid air vent. I'm going to find a way to you guys, just hold on."

Miles barely heard him as he worked to pour the powder mixture on both sides of the gushing hole in Gerald's shoulder. Finally, after he'd used up the whole packet, the bleeding stopped. "Why do you always have to get yourself into shit, Gerald?" Miles whispered as he tore a strip from his jacket and tied it around the bullet graze on Gerald's leg.

"Is he going to be okay?"

Miles looked up to see a thin teenage girl with glasses looking down at Gerald.

"He'll make it." Miles said. Gerald had bad burns all up his back from the explosion, but they were the sort of thing he would recover from, if they managed to make it out of the factory alive.

"Good. You're his friend, right?" She said, wiping someone else's blood from her face . "We need to get moving, more Oompa Loompas are going to be here any minute."

Suddenly Miles became aware of the fact that a siren was screaming. He looked around to find himself in a room littered with the fallen. Here and there amid the broken tables, smashed instruments and bodies, he could see the murdered guards. So many of the enslaved had given their lives to win the others their freedom.

That freedom would be short lived if they didn't figure out how to get out of this room soon. The fire Gerald had started in the operating room was slowly spreading, and they didn't have the time or resources to put it out. Once it hit the ammunition and gunpowder that the slaves had been working with, the whole room would blow.

"We need your help," the girl said.

Miles rose to his feet. The remaining slaves that had not died in the fighting were all either tending to each other's wounds or arming themselves with weapons.

"What are all the entrances and exits?" Miles asked.

The girl pointed to a double door under the balcony that the Doctor had stood on. "That leads to our sleeping quarters and bathrooms." She pointed to another pair of doors that was a ways away from the doors to the operating room. "That used to be the main entrance I think, but they have it permanently blocked off on the other side. Then there's the elevators, but those are too small to fit most of us."

Miles's brow wrinkled as he tried hard to think of something fast. "Wait. Then how did any of you get down here in the first place?"

"Oh. Well, there's another entrance by our sleeping quarters where they bring people. But it's a huge steel door with a keypad that only opens from the outside. There's no way we can get out that way."

Miles fingered the explosive pack in his pocket. "Maybe there is. Tell the survivors to watch the elevators and shoot anything that comes down. I'm going to take a look at this door."


	12. Chapter 12

XII

"Wonka, you there?" Miles asked again.

Static.

_He must be somewhere where he has to be really silent and can't respond?_ Miles hoped it was only that. In front of him was a solid steel door with no handle and no obvious weaknesses. Miles wasn't sure he could blow through the door.

But maybe he could blow through the wall around it.

He'd hoped for some advice from Wonka, but that didn't look like it was happening. Miles turned and surveyed the room around him. He still needed something to direct the blast towards the wall. All there was to choose from was dingy bunks and thin blankets. He grabbed a couple mattresses and dragged a bunk over to prop them up.

"Here goes nothing." Miles said to himself before he licked his pack, stuck it to the wall next to the door and then slammed the two mattresses up against it. Counting down his twenty seconds, he shoved the metal bunk up against the mattresses and ran out of the room.

A loud boom resonated through the air as Miles slammed the door shut. All the surviving slaves turned their gaze away from the elevators for a moment to stare at him. Miles gave a quick grimace at them before whipping around and tearing open the door.

Miles let out a laugh of relief. It had worked! There was now a gaping hole in the wall next to the steel door! Miles kicked what remained of the bunk that he'd used as a blockade out of his path and ran to the newfound entrance. It lead right into a hallway. He looked left. He looked right. All clear. It was a miracle!

He ran back into the main room. "Everyone! Come this way! I've got us a way out!" He cried as he began to struggle with picking Gerald up off the floor.

"You got through the door?!" the girl from before asked as she rushed over to help him set Gerald upright.

"Yeah, but we've got to hurry. I don't know how long our exit will be unnoticed." Miles said as he managed to get Gerald's arm over his shoulder.

"Screw that, I'll carry him, it'll be faster." The girl said as she scooped up Gerald in her arms. "Everybody move!" She cried to the remaining slaves in the room. "What's your name, kid?" The girl asked him as they ran with the others through the sleeping area and the hole in the wall.

"I'm Miles."

"I'm Maybelynne."

Everyone was in the hallway now, all bunched together and looking uncertain. "Which way do we go?" A young woman with candy colored pink hair asked. She was holding the little kid Calvin in her arms. "May?" someone else asked. But Maybelynne looked to him.

Miles looked bewildered."Don't you guys know how you got down here?"

"No." A man with a missing arm said. "I was unconscious when they brought me here."

Chorus's of: "So was I." or "I was blindfolded." echoed among the group.

"We've got nothing." Maybelynne admitted. "But you got down here by yourself though, right? So you know the way?" Her voice held a note of anxiety.

Know the way? Miles had no idea where they were going or where they should be headed. Wonka had lead them down here, and half the way had been spent in the ventilation shafts. He could be leading them into Gloobenstomper's lair for all he knew. _Anywhere has to better than here_, he thought, remembering the room full of gunpowder behind them. "Let's head this way." Miles said, pointing to the right. He pushed his way to the front as they ran, to ensure that if he had lead them into any danger, that he would be the first to face it.

The pounding of forty something odd pairs of feet slapping across the hallway's linoleum tiles was loud, but louder still was the sound of the panic siren. It's blare fueled Miles on, as he knew that it was not screaming in vain. The Oompa Loompas would come. The question was would they be able to outrun them.

"Wonka, where are you?" Miles said as he held a hand to his earpiece. Silence. "We got out through a back entrance and are leaving the room before it blows. Why don't you respond?" Again, nothing. Just static in his ears.

After only 300 feet, Miles and his group tore around one corner and came face to face with the enemy. Twenty fully decked out Oompa Loompa warriors were charging down the hallway towards them.

"Retreat! Fall back!" Miles cried. But just then a tremendous explosion rocked the building and everyone, including the Oompa Loompa's, was knocked down. As soon as the tremor's stopped, black smoke came pouring into the hallway from the way Miles and everyone had come. The Slave Room was no more.

As Miles rose to his feet, so did the Oompa Loompas. There was no retreating now. It was kill or be killed. The few in his group that had weapon's raised them. So did the O.L..

For a second, no one fired. Everyone stood frozen as foul smoke slowly filled the air. The candy haired woman clutched Calvin closer to her chest as he began to cry.

Then the first shot was fired. As the hallway became a war zone, Miles feared that perhaps none of them were going to make it out of this alive. And then suddenly bullets were flying out of the wall next to the Oompa Loompas, piercing them in their right flank, and—

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGG!" A huge man came flying through the wall also, his fully automatic self-designed rifle filling the startled enemy full of lead. Within seconds it was over, Wonka now standing victoriously over a smoking pile of dead Oompa Loompas. Panting heavily, he turned to face Miles and the slaves, one of his eyebrows climbing up his forehead in the process. Seeing his scarred visage, all the slaves shrank instinctively back. All except one.

"You saved us," one young woman said softly, her light eyes electric against her dark skin. "Who are you?"

Wonka set his jaw. "I'm Willy Wonka, and I'm here to take my factory back from these monsters and get you people out of here. Let's move!"

The slaves let out a roar of approval and began trampling past the shootout zone after Wonka. Miles gave Wonka a high five as he reached him.

"You made it! Why wouldn't you respond on the com?"

"There was no easy way for me to get to you guys." Wonka said as they ran. "I had to haul ass and make some new doorways. And consequently my path led me right through the TV Room. There's a lot of weird stuff still running in there, somehow it shorted out my mic. I could hear you, you couldn't hear me."  
"Well, you came just in time, a second later and we would have been dead."

"Don't I know it." Wonka said before he picked up the pace and made his way to the front of the pack.

Glad to be relieved of leader status, Miles looked over to give Maybelynne a hopeful grin to see that Gerald was stirring in her arms.

"Chocolate zucchini bread?" Gerald muttered as he came to.

"Oh thank god, I don't have to keep carrying you." Maybelynne said as her arms practically gave out and she dumped Gerald on the floor.

"Aw shit!" he cried.

"Come on, man, we're on the move." Miles said as he hurriedly reached down and helped Gerald up. "Can you run?"

"Ohhh geez." Gerald said as he began walking and put a hand to his back. "Where the hell are we? What happened?" He asked as he began to slowly pick up his pace to a power walk and then a jog.

"We're up shit creek." Maybelynne said as they jogged down some stairs. "And I'm hoping you guys have a paddle."

"Wonka will lead us out of here, he knows where he's going." Miles said.

"Are you sure?"

"Well…"

Maybelynne shot Miles a look.

Miles picked up his pace and, leaving Gerald with Maybelynne, caught up with Wonka.

"Wonka do you know where we're going?" he asked.

"Definitely."

Miles's eyes widened at the surety of this statement. He was impressed.

Then they passed an open room with a small chocolate fountain. It's appearance seemed to surprise Wonka. He looked down at Miles then. "Maybe."

"What do you mean 'maybe'?" Miles asked incredulously.

"Well...I'm pretty sure of where we're at but at the same time..." They passed a giant wall covered in lollipops. "I'm not remembering some of this." Wonka shrugged, looking grim. "I haven't been down here in a long time."

"So you have no idea what's behind this door?" Miles asked as they were forced to slow when the hallway suddenly ended in a pair of large double doors.

For a moment Wonka looked lost. The pair of wooden doors had the shapes of leaves carved into them and were painted bright green. And on the right door, one word had been cut into the wood: Home.

Wonka's eyes widened with recognition. "My god...this is it."

"This is what?"

"Hey look, doors," Gerald said as he caught up. He looked at Miles and Wonka. "Are we gonna go through?"

"After so many years…it's a different color but it's still _here_. I tried to find this so many times..." Wonka said as he approached the doors and grasped both of the handles. "Be ready to shoot if you have to."

"Wonka! What is it?" Miles demanded. The slaves were behind them now, all scared and wondering what was going on.

"You'll see." And he threw both doors wide open.


	13. Chapter 13

XIII

A green valley laid out before them. There were trees lining the clearing, and a small river trickling through by the far end. Directly from the doorway lead a stone path that wound down the hill they stood on and into the village. How many houses there were, could not be said right off. There seemed to be too many to count. Yet, it did not seem to be crowded, each little house given its own area to occupy.

Fresh, cool air that smelled faintly of dirt and rain blew into the hallway and everyone simultaneously took a deep breath of it.

"Are we...outside?" Gerald asked quietly, as if he knew better, but couldn't help himself.

Miles didn't blame him, the whole place didn't seem to have an end. He knew that they were hundreds of feet underground but still, he could see no walls, and the sky..._it looked real_!

"It's beautiful isn't it?" Wonka said with calm satisfaction. "But no, it isn't really outdoors. It's all manufactured."

"What is this place?"Miles asked as Wonka stepped from the hallway and onto the stone path.

"This is the Oompa Loompas's home." He said as he began making his way down, his limp once again obvious as he walked.

Miles's eyes bulged. "Then why,in God's name, do we wanna go in here?!"

"Yeah, aren't we supposed to be looking for a way outta this hell hole?" The one armed man from before said.

Wonka paused and looked back at them. "Trust me, at this point, this is probably our _only_ way out. Either we make our way down here and use the Wonkavator I'm hoping is still in existence or we turn back and face Oompa hordes like you've never seen. It's your choice."

The group looked at one another. Without Wonka to guide them, their chances of finding another way out were slim. Also, they were all curious about this new room.

"This is where they live, then?" Maybelynne asked, her one good eye taking in the sky as everyone slowly filtered out of the hallway after Wonka.

"Yup."

"And you've been trying to find this place for how long?" Gerald asked.

" Ever since they revolted."

"What?" Gerald shot him a look. "A _year_? How the hell could you lose track of where the Oompa Loompas live?"

"So I never came down here much, _big deal_." Wonka said, cutting his eyes to Gerald.

"Why did you want to come down here though?" Miles asked.

When Wonka looked at him, his eyes were cold. "So I could kill them all."

His tone sent shivers down Miles's spine.

"And now that we've found it. That's exactly what I'm going to do." Wonka continued, his eyes in a hardened squint. "I'm going to burn their houses to the ground and shoot every last one of them."

"Aye." One young ginger-bearded man said as he nodded his head. "I be likin' the sound o' that."

Wonka stopped walking and turned to face the people behind him. "Who's with me then? Who wants to get revenge on them for what they did to us?" He surveyed them all, his face stern and his eyes full of fire. "This is our chance! Come on, people! Don't you want to make them pay for what they did? For what they did to your families?"

"Yeah!" someone in the group cried. Others began to nod.

"For what they did to _you_? They tortured and experimented on you! They made you into their _slaves_! Doesn't that make you angry?"

"YEAH!" the group cried.

"They shot my two little girls!" One woman cried.

"They used us all as test subjects!"

"Let's kill them!"

"Let's make them pay!"

"I say we burn this whole place to the ground!"

"Let's do it." Maybelynne said, her face twisted with fury and fear.

Miles could feel the hatred in his own gut twisting and burning him up.

He closed his eyes and all he could see was images of his mother. Her smile and that glow that she'd had that lit her up from the inside. All that had changed after The Takeover. His last memories were of her laying on the dirt, her blood spilling out around her...If it hadn't been for them...

The whole group was rumbling with hatred. They had all endured the pain and torture for too long. Miles's eyes met Gerald's and he saw that he felt the same way.

"Who's with me, huh?! Who's with me?!" Wonka hoisted his gun above his head and shook it in the air. "Let's go down there and get our revenge!"

With a loud cry the angry mob tore down the rest of the decline and entered the outskirts of the village.

The roar instantly attracted the attention of the villagers. As the mob tore into town, little Oompa Loompa children that had been playing in the streets scattered with cries of fear. Elderly Oompa Loompa's, their faces full of wrinkles, left their seats on the house porches and did their best to rush inside.

"Get them!" Wonka cried.

The mob spread like wildfire upon the village. The peaceful valley was suddenly filled with screams and gunshot as they dispersed and chased after the retreating creatures.

But Miles was still standing in the middle of the road. His fingers were frozen around his gun as he watched his fellow fighters tear into houses and fire their weapons with reckless abandon. _No._ _This isn't right…_Miles heart felt sick. _This isn't right… _"Wonka! These are just women and children! Where are the males?" Miles cried.

Wonka, who was only a few yards away loading his gun, spared him a glance. "Don't you remember that alarm you set off in the slave room? All the adult males are away on duty. Which means we're in luck! This is easy picking!" Wonka yelled back as he lifted his gun and fired it.

Miles watched in horror as Wonka's bullet hit a female Oompa Loompa that had been running away. Her back arched with the impact and her head flew back. For a moment she was just floating there, the momentum of the bullet carrying her forward. Then gravity kicked in and she ground into the dirt.

Exactly like his mother had.

"STOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOPPPP!" Miles screamed. "NOOO!" He ran to Wonka and grabbed and tore at him until his gun was lowered and he had his attention. "EVERYONE! STOP! STOP RIGHT NOW!"

His screams lifted above the cries of the injured and oppressed. Above even the gunshot and the sound of flesh on flesh.

Everyone heard him. And they paused.

"WE CAN'T DO THIS!" Miles cried, tears leaking down his cheeks. "Can't you see what we're doing? They're just women and children! We can't kill them!"

Wonka looked down at him in stunned disbelief. "Miles…they're still the enemy."

"NO! No they're not!" He said, his eyes red as he glared at Wonka. "They aren't the ones that killed our families."

Wonka frowned sternly. "Maybe not right now, but they'll grow up and then they will be. Get your head straight." Wonka pointed to one of the children that was being held down by one of the slaves. "In a few years he could kill you."

"That doesn't make it right."

Wonka shook his head. "Listen Miles, don't waste your compassion on them." He came and took Miles by the shoulders firmly. "They aren't human. They don't have feelings like you or I."

"That's not true." Miles whispered, his arm raising to point to the female Oompa Loompa that Wonka had shot. A little Oompa Loompa was kneeled down beside her now, tugging on her arm, tears streaming down his face.

Wonka's eyes widened.

"They aren't like the Oompa Loompas we've fought. Those were soldiers who were hardened and trained to never cry over a lost comrade. But these Oompa Loompas are just civilians. They're just little kids and Moms. They're just like you or I." Miles made to brush off Wonka's hands but before he could, Wonka's grip on Miles fell away. The former owner of the chocolate factory's eyes were glued to the scene taking place between the fallen female and her child.

Miles turned back to the group of slaves. "I know you're angry, I am too. But please, this isn't right." Miles pleaded. "Let them go!"

Gerald's face was slack with guilt as Miles's eyes found his. After a moment, his friend's gun made a small tump sound as it fell to the ground. All around him then, the slaves dropped their weapons and released their prisoners.

"I know they've done unspeakable things to all of us." Miles continued. "But if we do this, we are not only as bad as them…we might be worse. We'd be intentionally killing innocents. What we've done already…" Miles's eyes settled upon the shot female and the child. "Is far too much." He put down his gun and ran to them. The little boy saw him coming and scampered away to hide in the bushes of a yard. Miles paid him no mind though, his attention on the female. He crouched down, took the female, and turned her over to see if she was still alive.

She was. Her eyelids were fluttering weakly as blood poured from the wound in her chest. Back when Miles's mother had been shot, she'd been shot straight through the heart. This woman was lucky, the bullet had gone through her right side. And now, Miles had something he hadn't had back then.

He pulled out his last packet of Wonka's clotting agent and tore it open. The bleeding slowed as he applied it, but Miles wasn't sure that it would be enough. "I'm so sorry…" He whispered as he put his hand to her cheek.

The child from before slowly crept from hiding. Miles looked up and met it's brown eyes with his green. "It's alright. I won't hurt you." He said as he attempted to wipe some of the tears from his own face.

The other members of Miles's group all stood a ways away and watched in disbelief as the child slowly crept forward. Finally, it took Miles's offered hand.

"After everything we just did, that kid is willing to go to Miles?" Maybelynne said with incredulity.

Wonka's eyes had a different look to them. For the first time since they'd met him, he looked genuinely sorrowful. "He wouldn't have gone to anyone else." Wonka said, a surety to his tone. And with that, he left the group and headed towards Miles.

As he approached, the young child let go of Miles's hand and ran away again. Miles looked up at Wonka, his green eyes lit by the few errant rays of artificial light that snuck through the cloudy sky.

"You're right, Miles." He said as he looked down at the injured female. "This was wrong. Maybe if I had been more like you, and treated the Oompa Loompas with respect, none of this would have ever happened."

Miles frowned and shook his head. "Wonka…you—"

"I'm not deserving of that title." Wonka interrupted him as he pulled off his mahogany top hat. "I'm 43. Old enough to retire from this job. Had things gone right, in another few years I would have sent out the golden tickets and chosen a replacement." He considered the top hat in his hands for a long moment. " I'd like to think that I'd have gotten you, Miles. You've done what I never could have." Wonka's gaze was pensive as he suddenly held out his hat for Miles to take. "You've just passed the test that I failed. Take it, it belongs to you now."

Miles looked at the hat with shock. Then his gaze went back to Wonka. After a moment he shook his head. "I have no wish to be Willy Wonka." He said, taking the injured female's hand in his own and giving it a squeeze. "To them, that name means nothing but enslavement now. Thank you, but no."

Wonka blinked, his face going pale. For a moment there was only silence. "Of course…" He said softly, his hand with the hat slowly retreating back.

Miles rose up to his feet to address the Oompa Loompa villagers. "We're sorry!" He cried. "I know that doesn't make up for anything, but it's all we have. We shouldn't have hurt any of you."

The Oompa Loompa's stared back at him with fear and confusion from their houses and hidey holes.

"We're all so damaged." Miles said softly as he surveyed the village before him. "Sometimes we forget that we even have the ability to do anything else other than destroy." Finally he turned back to Wonka. "So," he sighed as he took a step towards Wonka. "Where is this Wonkavator that we need?"

"It's this way." Wonka said as he tucked his top hat into the crook of his arm and took off at a brisk pace towards where the rest of the survivors were standing. "We should hurry before any of the soldiers come back."

"Then let—urk…"

Wonka froze in his tracks. He looked back even though in his gut he already knew what had happened.

Miles was standing still, staring at the red bloom that was spreading across the lower part of his blue t-shirt. He put his hands to his stomach and his shocked eyes found Wonka's.

Then a stream of bullets came flying from Wonka's left and Miles was struck down.

Everything afterward happened in lighting fast procession. Wonka felt three bullet's penetrate or graze his own body as he instinctively took off in a run.

"MILES!" Gerald screamed as he began racing toward his friend. Wonka let go of his top hat and grabbed Gerald before he could throw himself into the line of fire.

"MILES, MILES! LET ME GO! WE CAN'T LEAVE HIM!" Gerald screamed as Wonka threw him over his shoulder and ran with the rest of the slaves."NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Wonka ran as fast as his mismatched legs would take him. The Render's had come.

And they'd already claimed their first victim.

There was sure to be many more.


	14. Chapter 14

XIV

"FUCK YOU! STOP! PUT ME DOWN _NOW_! STOP! WE HAVE TO GO BACK!" Gerald cried hysterically from Wonka's shoulder as he pounded on Wonka's back with his fists.

"Fucking lay off will you?! I've been shot back there!" Wonka said as he ran.

His words seemed to take the fight out of Gerald, and he slumped down then, his screams replaced by sobs.

Wonka felt bad for the kid, he really did. He himself felt like he'd been torn. In the brief few hours that he'd known Miles, he'd found himself growing attached to the kid. Miles had—

_Brrrrt! Brrrt! Blam, blam, blam!_

But the fact remained that they were under heavy fire and being hunted by The Renders. If they didn't keep moving, they'd end up joining Miles.

"This way!" He cried as he made a sharp turn and cut through the lawn of one of the houses. The few slaves that were fast enough to keep up with him and hadn't fallen to gunshot raced after him. Wonka knew he had to find that Wonkavator fast. It was their only way out.

But how many of them were going to make it?

"Hey, Gerald!" Wonka cried as he leapt over the yard's little hedges at its end. "I need you to help me out here! Take this gun!" Wonka pulled a handgun from a holster at his thigh and handed it back to Gerald. "Shoot them if you can! If not, just give us some cover fire!"

Gerald took the gun Wonka handed him. His hands were shaking like he had palsy, and for a moment, he worried he'd drop the weapon. He heard Wonka say his name again, but he just couldn't seem to get a grip. Everything around him felt so unreal.

It had to be a dream. Miles couldn't be dead. And if he was...

Gerald just wanted to join him.

Their mission had failed. They'd not hurt the Oompa Loompa's like they'd wanted to. Miles and his own vengeance had not been satiated. And now Miles was gone...

"Gerald!"

Gerald managed to raise his head, his hand coming up to brush away the hair that had become a curtain over his face.

"Help us out!" Maybelynne cried. She was 20 feet behind them, running with all her might. Beside her was a dark skinned girl. They both looked completely exhausted, their breathing labored as they struggled to run for their lives. They'd been slaves in the factory for a while likely, and no doubt were weak from lack of food and sleep. Bullets hit the house right behind them and both girls shrieked and stumbled before regaining their speed. The dark skinned girl tried to turn and fire back with her rifle, but it was almost impossible to do so and keep running.

Gerald's hands had stopped shaking. He raised his arms, sighted an Oompa Loompa in the distance, and fired. His bullet caught the creature in the shoulder and it was flung back.

Maybe their original mission had failed. But he'd forgotten that they had a new one. Save the slaves.

"There it is! That building there!" Wonka cried as he leapt over another hedge, causing Gerald to bobble up and down on his shoulder like a rag doll. "Go, go, go!"

Gerald jerked his head to the side to catch a brief glimpse of a building that was taller than the rest, and had real tiles on its roof unlike the thatched ones on the others. It was still a short distance away. He turned back and focused completely on giving cover fire to protect the slaves.

It was hard to hit them. The others, not the guards. The regular guard Oompa Loompas Gerald could see and shoot. But there were others that he could only catch glimpses of sometimes. Their bullets seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. They were something new.

"Fuck!" Gerald exclaimed as a young man that had been running 15 yards back was shot in the leg and fell. Where had that come from? Where the hell were they?!

"Everybody in!" Wonka cried as he came to a sliding stop in front of the tall building, his mismatched legs throwing up gravel. He set Gerald down hard and tore open the door to the building. As people ran inside, Wonka and Gerald kept the ammunition flowing.

"Shit!" Gerald cried as he suddenly ran out of ammo. "Wonka! I'm out!"

Wonka, who was basically a walking arsenal, tossed him a fresh cartridge. Just then, a stream of bullets came flying in and embedded itself into the concrete of the building just to the left of them.

Wonka grimaced as he let loose another spray of bullets. "That's it, anyone who isn't here by now is fucked! Move!" He and Gerald both dived into the building and slammed the door shut.

It was dark inside once they'd closed the door. Gerald heard Wonka swearing for a moment before he seemed to find the light switch and the room was lit up.

They were standing in what appeared to be a library/town hall. There was a long wooden table down the middle of the room that was lined with chairs. And on the sides of the room were bookshelves, some filled with books, others with odd ornaments and artifacts. Sensibly, everything was miniaturized. Except for a large chair that sat at the head of the table and was more carved and decorated than the others.

"Here, this is it." Wonka said, rushing to a space between the bookshelves that held a glass door. He pulled it open to reveal the inside of an elevator, but with all glass walls and...Gerald's eyes widened.

_A million buttons_.

His fingers itched to push them all. _Get a hold of yourself, man._

Wonka flicked a few switches in it and a central light hanging from the ceiling of it came on. "YES!" Wonka exclaimed as he pounded on one of the walls lightly with his fist in celebration. Then he pressed a few buttons and stepped outside. "Let's go people, I've got it set up, soon as the doors shut it'll take off and head for the outside." Wonka said as he beckoned for the remaining slaves to pile in.

Gerald watched as the candy haired woman that was holding Calvin and everyone else rushed forward and into the elevator. All except for the dark skinned girl and Maybelynne.

Wonka jutted his chin at Mabelynne. "Get movin' Blondie. You too," Wonka said, looking at the dark skinned girl. "No time for lollygagging, Lollipop."

"But there's not enough room for everyone." Maybelynne said.

"There's enough room for everyone that's leaving." Wonka said as he flicked his eyes to Gerald.

Gerald grinned, getting the idea immediately. "Right."

"What do you mean?" The other girl asked, looking worried as bullets could be heard hitting the outside of the building. "You've got to come too!"

"I've got unfinished business here." Wonka said as he walked over to an area of stands that were covered in a black sheet.

"Me too." Gerald said as he walked over. "Now go, you guys have to hurry."

But neither moved. Maybelynne looked at him with obvious distress. "Gerald…"

"Come on, May, let 'em be." The young man with the ginger-beard said from within the elevator.

With that the two allowed themselves to be herded into the glass elevator with the rest.

"You two look after everyone." Gerald told them. The elevator was big, but it was barely enough to hold everyone it needed to. Gerald wasn't sure if he should be happy that everyone left fit, or sad that there weren't more survivors.

"But what will you do?" Maybelynne asked, her brow wrinkled with fear and worry.

Gerald looked over to see that Wonka had pulled the sheet off to reveal three pedestals with glass boxes on top of each. One was empty, but the other two held mahogany top hats that looked almost identical to the one that Wonka had worn.

"Miles was right. This hat means nothing but enslavement to them now. It brings up nothing but memories of oppression and hatred." Wonka said as he surveyed the display. Then he took the glass case off of the second reddish-brown top hat and threw it to the far wall where it shattered. He delicately picked the hat up and placed it on his head at a jaunty angle. "I'll see to it that that's exactly what they get."

THE END

**This story took me 2 whole years to write, from conception to finish. In fact, Miles's birth date, stated earlier at the beginning of chapter 5, was based upon the idea that that was when he came into existence for me. Fun right? :D It took so long to write due to the fact that in the beginning, I wasn't a good enough writer to pull off a story like this. But thanks to practice and trying hard, I'm finally happy with how it turned out. *sheds single tear to commemorate achievement.* :')**

**Anyways, I hope that you enjoyed this story, as I put my heart and soul into it. I hope you fell in love with Miles, Gerald, Maybelynne, and Wonka as much as I did. 3**

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS!

**I would like to thank my siblings for all their helpful input and for all the proofreading they did for me. Especially my big sis. She helped me with it, and did a great job being my editor. (This story would be harder to understand and weird if it wasn't for her)**

**A thanks for Nickelback. It was their music that fueled me through all those grueling action scenes and got me in the right angry mood to write this story.**

**And, special thanks to my former best friend, known as Pancake. If it wasn't for her enthusiasm, I am sure I would never have finished this story. It was only because of her interest and drawings that this story became as good as it did! I owe a lot to her.**


End file.
